


Nothing But Air

by danceswithgary



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-26
Updated: 2008-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people believe that a friendship can wear out like tires. There's only just so much mileage in them, and then you're left riding around on nothing but air. Some people know better than that. Remix of 'Tequila Sunrise' for Sweet Charity February 2008 winner ladydey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But Air

  
~*~*~

Chapter One

~*~*~

He'd been born a prince of Metropolis, but he would never ascend the throne.

The first time I saw Alexander Joseph Luthor, he was barely holding his own against three older and bigger boys. They'd surrounded him, each of them already sporting scrapes and bruises that had made it clear that the pale, thin boy in the center had managed to give as good as he'd gotten. As I'd approached the group, I'd watched the attackers exchange covert signals, rapidly calculated the odds, and then made my decision.

A few minutes later, I'd been offered a hand wiped off against the white shirt that was a hallmark of the Excelsior uniform. I'd accepted it, taking care of the bruised knuckles, and introduced myself. The bloodied grin that had flashed up at me held no shame, and his crystal-blue eyes had drawn me in before I knew it. The smooth, hairless curve of his skull had been startling at first, and the mottled purple blooming beneath the skin had made me wince in sympathy. He'd shrugged off my concerned stare, cheekily instructed me to call him by his nickname, and then dragged me along with him to get our various wounds attended to by the school nurse.

We always took care of each other in those early days. Our boarding school was considered one of the most prestigious in the country. The scions of the rich and famous made their way through the hallowed halls seeking the education their future positions required, but wealth and rank had never been guarantors of gentlemanly behavior.

Lex had borne sad witness to that fact. Fortunately, the frequency of attacks decreased after my arrival. We'd made common cause as orphans. He'd lost his mother a few months earlier, while my parents' murders were still haunting me a year later. I'd soon learned that his father detested the sight of Lex, disgusted by his unique appearance. Lex had confided that he suspected that part of his father's difficulty in dealing with him was a lingering guilt over the circumstance. An ill-fated business trip to an obscure place named Smallville had concluded with an unprecedented meteorite shower. In a single day, Lex had lost his hair...and his father's affection.

I, on the other hand, was fortunate enough to have had a triumvirate of guardians, each fond of me in his fashion. Alfred Pennyworth cared for my uncle Philip, the Wayne mansion, and me, while Lucius Fox tended the Wayne fortune. I might have been missing a parent's love, but I had never been left without support, someone I could count on.

Surviving bullies and the other perils of an adolescence spent in a private boarding school, the two of us finally left the hallowed halls of Excelsior behind for Princeton. I was no slouch when it came to academics, but Lex had always held the honors when it came to the sciences and mathematics, easily making up the two-year difference in our ages so that we'd graduated together. I'd been on track for a law degree, preparing to either join my uncle's firm or work as a public defender. Lex had dreamed of heading a research lab someday, despite his father's plans for him to join LuthorCorp with his master's degree in business in hand.

I could understand his need for rebellion, even though I didn't care for the results.

We'd roomed together on campus but, as the months passed, I'd begun to see less and less of the Lex I'd once admired. He'd found the coursework too simple to hold his attention, and that had left him too much time for other pursuits. While I was in our dorm room dedicating myself to passing every pre-law course with honors, Lex was out in the clubs, just as dedicated to pushing his mind and body to the limit with drugs, sex and alcohol.

Early on, he'd found he had an extremely high tolerance for any intoxicant, which he'd turned to his advantage. Between us, we'd postulated that the meteorite exposure had done more than leave him bald; it had also boosted his immune system and rate of healing. Considering the use he was putting it to, it was a mixed blessing at best.

The sex was self-destructive. Lex had never shown any gender preference, the concept of male and female unimportant to him. I'd always turned down his advances for the sake of friendship. I'd seen the results of his whirlwind seductions more than once, and I didn't care to become one of many soulless 'fucks.' In retrospect, I've often wondered if I would have been the one that mattered and settled him down. I'll never know.

I'd missed my friend so much that it had been easy for Lex to convince me to join him in Cancun for spring break. It had been an excellent idea, and we'd reconnected during the long, hot days on the beach and late-night walks spent discussing every subject Lex's quicksilver mind touched on. I'd watched the circles under Lex's eyes fade and his unnatural pallor being replaced by warm ivory tones. He'd even begun to gain back some much-needed weight with regular meals, so that his laughter no longer exposed the bones beneath his skin.

Unfortunately, it didn't last. Two days before we were scheduled to return, paradise was lost. He'd managed to score with one of the cabana boys, and had dragged me down to one of the deserted docks to watch the sunset. I'd succumbed to his charm and was feeling a pleasant buzz from the joint he'd pressed on me. Sailboats bobbed around us in the choppy water of the bay, their movement a distraction that had helped keep both of us unaware of the approaching police officers, until it was too late.

At least, _I_ had been unaware. Lex had somehow sensed them and, catching me off-guard, he'd shoved me into the water with a quick command to stay out of sight.

When I'd finally surfaced, I was under the dock. Lex had made one of his lightning-quick calculations, and had managed to shield my body with his. As a result, the police had failed to spend any time searching for his missing companion. They had bundled up the evidence and escorted Lex away, leaving me treading water and racking my muzzy brain for options. My last sight of him, as he climbed the sand dunes between his captors, was of his unbowed head, a pale gleam in the fading light.

I'd called my Uncle Philip for help, positive that he'd be able to use his connections with the government to intercede on Lex's behalf. If nothing else, Lex proved a powerful example for me of the need for honest law enforcement. There had been someone working against us for months, keeping Lex rotting in a Mexican jail despite all our efforts. Nothing legal had been able to release the chains of rough justice.

He had been well and truly fucked.

During those long months of waiting, I'd dreamed about mounting a lightning raid against the prison in order to free my friend. Ultimately, my uncle had been able to make me understand that Lex needed to finish out his sentence so he could reclaim his life as something other than a fugitive. It had been a difficult lesson to learn.

I must admit that those impulses still plague me sometimes, late at night, while I'm reviewing the day's failures or delays. I remember my dream of riding the streets of Gotham as a dark warrior for justice, a knight on a midnight-black charger, his helm and shield bearing a crest that would proclaim him protector. So far, I've managed to resist.

In the end, Lex's release had caught me by surprise. My uncle had received no notice from the Mexican government. Lex hadn't come back to Princeton, Metropolis or Gotham. He had been missing for almost a month before we'd thought to go searching.

We didn't find him.

I've always felt as if we didn't try hard enough.

Much later, we'd found out that Lionel had disinherited Lex. It hadn't been too much of a shock. The bastard had already abandoned Lex years earlier... he'd just finally taken the time to formalize it. When I'd visited Lionel's office in the early days of Lex's incarceration, Lionel had dismissed my plea for assistance, instead informing me that Lex would have to 'take his punishment like a man.'

The prominent photograph at the edge of his desk had made it clear where Lionel's hope for the future resided. The smiling blond boy had usurped Lex's position from the date of his birth. It said something that Lex had never held that against Julian. He'd never wanted anything but the best for his baby brother. Julian was destined to have it all.

A few years passed before Lex finally resurfaced. I'd been in law school when I'd received a call from my uncle letting me know that my friend had been seen in the company of some decidedly unsavory characters. The east side of Metropolis, the infamous Met East, had long been the place to find every vice known to man. Hearing that Lex was potentially involved with anyone found there had been disheartening. I took some time off from classes, long enough for a trip back home, and then I'd tracked him down.

The alley had been too dark for comfort. Only the knowledge that Lex was in the shadows had kept me walking forward, taking a foolish chance with my life. He hadn't disappointed me. He'd stepped out of a slight recess to meet me halfway, his once-familiar face almost alien in the faint glow of the streetlight behind me. Standing there, sleekly elegant in his signature black, Lex had nodded curtly, his cold eyes never wavering from mine. Our conversation, if you could call it that, was short. He'd assured me that there were no hard feelings about Mexico. I'd conveyed my concern about his new associates.

He'd told me it was none of my business, but thanked me for taking the time to stop by. Then he'd asked if I wanted to get a drink...and his old grin slipped free. I'd regretfully declined, but still we'd both left that dismal place with the knowledge that we were friends despite everything that had happened. That helped somehow whenever I'd hear something about him and his new line of business. He hadn't lost any of his brilliance...just the will to fight his way back. The drug trade had never had anyone quite as _gifted_ as Lex, and he excelled at it.

He'd never been caught, but that was because _I_ hadn't been placed on any of his cases. I'd passed the bar, joined the Gotham-Met force, and made detective in record time...and word went around that Bruce Wayne stayed out of Met East. For years, I'd managed to avoid having to make a choice.

Lex never asked me for help in all those years and, somehow, that's never surprised me. Even when we were the closest of friends, there had been a portion of him kept separate, private. It was just part of the whole Lex Luthor package...stubbornly independent, fiercely loyal, relying on no one but himself. I would have given him anything he'd asked for in a heartbeat, just to get him back on track, but he'd managed it without me. At least, that had been the word on the street. 'Lex Luthor's out.' It had been good to hear. It'd made me think that maybe there was something like hope still hanging around for some people.

Tonight, I walked into a hotel room on an undercover drug bust in South Gotham and there he was, laid back, cocky, blue eyes not missing a thing...and I was well and truly fucked.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Two

~*~*~

 

I've always found it difficult to live up to expectations.

I'm not sure that I started out life that way, but I suspect losing my hair and most of my family at an early age had a lot to do with it. When you know that nothing you do will ever earn your father's love and respect, the incentive to excel just isn't there. In my case, I still managed to reach the heights of accomplishment, despite a few detours along the way, although my friend Bruce would likely disagree.

It's all in how you look at it. I'm sure that no one at Princeton has broken the records I set there for drinking and fucking, although I'm sure that it's not for lack of trying. I will grant that the drugs might be a different story, especially with the large variety of new designer drugs available now. I should know. It used to be my business.

I hit the peak there, too. No one was better at moving product than Lex 'fucking' Luthor. No one. It was a point of pride that I'd never been back 'inside' after I got out of that hellhole in Mexico. I might have lost my chance at a college degree, not to mention a political career, but I hadn't lost the only thing I could count on...my aptitude for planning. I've always been a genius when it comes to strategy, as long as I don't let myself get sidetracked.

That's what happened in Mexico. I let myself get distracted by my best friend. Hell, let's face it...my only friend. There we were on the dock, smoking a little weed and celebrating getting back on track with each other...and the shit hit the fan. Out of nowhere, the federales were there. All I had time to do was to shove Bruce off the dock and tell him to keep his head down. Hell, he hadn't wanted to be there in the first place. I couldn't let him end up in jail because he hadn't been able to resist my bullshit.

It worked.

Bruce went back home to his uncle and his classes and his life.

I, on the other hand, had the opportunity to spend quality time with some 'interesting' people.

If nothing else, I came out knowing that I was never going back in. A man I'd never met before...the same one who'd pulled some very tenuous strings to spring me before the end of my sentence...met me at the border and told me what my options were. Morgan Edge has never pulled any punches...and he certainly didn't back then. Once I'd understood that my life as I'd known it was gone, without any hope of regaining it, he'd outlined his plan for bringing me into the business. I'd wondered why he'd gone after a college kid who'd been stupid enough to get caught, but Morgan had made it clear that he'd had his eye on me for quite a while. It'd had something to do with my father...and I'd stopped asking questions.

I suppose that I could have gone to the Waynes for help, but it was my fuckup, not Bruce's. I'd decided that he didn't need me around to drag him down. He was on the fast track for success, even without the Wayne millions behind him. So I took Morgan up on the offer, and I didn't see Bruce again for another five years. I'll admit that I missed him while I traveled around the country, learning everything there was to know about making and distributing product, but staying out of his way meant I wasn't being distracted by his button-downs, power ties, and sanctimonious preaching about truth, justice, and a fucking healthy mind in a healthy body.

It'd certainly made it a lot easier to succeed in my new career.

I had the cars and the houses and the fake corporations for laundering the cash. No one had ever been able to pin me on a bust. I was ahead of the cops all the way. I did it clean, too. No one died while I was on top in Met East. That was probably one of the reasons why Bruce had been able to stay out of it, why he'd always sent someone else to the east side of the city to deal with the dealers. We both had our places in history...and we stayed in them.

Strawberry curls, and a pair of blue eyes that matched mine, changed everything. Her name was Lena, and when I thought about taking her to school on Career Day, it suddenly all became very clear.

Everything went. I straightened it all out...over Morgan's strenuous objections. The money from the houses and cars went into the one company that I believed actually had a chance, and then I turned myself into a different kind of businessman.

Victoria didn't agree with my methods. She'd married me with the idea that I'd reconcile with my father some day, so that she'd get her greedy little hands on the Luthor estate. She'd have been better off seducing my father directly. Moving into a small three-bedroom ranch on the bay, with a husband that worked eighteen-hour days, was not her idea of a good time. She and Lena went elsewhere, along with every asset that wasn't nailed down.

I'd tried to convince myself it was for the better, two less distractions, but I'd only wanted the one to leave. I'd kept going, anyway. My reason for changing my life hadn't gone away. She just lived in a different house under a different zip code.

My biggest problem is that no one wants me to quit.

Morgan, Victoria, my suppliers, my buyers...no one wants me to quit. Even Lucas is after me daily about some deal he's heard is going down and how he could get out from under his gambling debts if I just helped him. I have to say, there are times I regret finding Lucas and bringing him to Metropolis. I'm not sure the satisfaction of having my illegitimate half-brother living with me is worth the endless hassle, but I'd made him some promises in order to get him out of the mess he'd been in, and that means he stays. It had been either Lionel or me that day...and I'd like to think Lucas made the right choice. I just wish he'd leave it alone and stop putting me in a bad position.

He'd been the reason I'd been standing in a hotel room tonight along with a nervous young black man...and a briefcase filled with drugs. It had turned out that the up-and-coming defense lawyer, Pete Ross, had been discussing 'things' with a client, who just happened to be Lucas. Suddenly, my name had come up as the man to help Mr. Ross sell the pound of coke _another_ client had used as payment. Obviously, I'd declined, at first, but then it had become apparent that the two idiots were going to try to sell it without any help.

I'd sent Lucas home, and then gone along with Ross as a consultant. After all, he was my lawyer, too, and I couldn't afford a new one. I'd scoped out the hotel's entrances and exits, checked for tails, and generally convinced my temporary partner that I was batshit paranoid. Of course, Ross was right, but that was what had kept me on the outside, while other dealers were looking at five-to-ten. I'd found enough to make me smell a setup, so I'd taken the briefcase into the bathroom for a little damage control...without Ross' knowledge. I'd arranged the coke for quick disposal in the back tank of the toilet and tossed the empty briefcase on the bed, and we'd waited.

Pete had recognized the first man through the door of the hotel room as his buyer. I'd known who the second one was instantly. Bruce's eyes had widened briefly in surprise before he'd settled down into his bland mode and suggested that he and I wait outside as the two 'strangers' to the deal. I'd nodded agreeably and followed him out, with a short detour to the bathroom to take a leak.

Bruce had not been at all happy about that development.

He hadn't liked being accused of setting me up, either. He'd claimed that he'd come along by chance because one of his detectives had been sick. The ring of police cars around the outside of the building had suggested otherwise and, after he'd stormed away to find out 'what the fuck was going on,' I went down the back fire escape. It shouldn't have been a problem, since there was no dope and no sale, but I've always tried to avoid the 'answering questions down at the station' scenario. Unfortunately, I'd been spotted leaving the scene.

Ten minutes later, I'd been thankful that my cell phone still worked so that I was able to cancel my dinner reservation. I'd wanted to keep my 'good customer' rating, but I'd figured showing up dripping wet would have been pushing it.

The river had been fucking cold...and I'd forgotten to ask what the soup of the day was at 'The Kent House.'

 

~*~*~

Chapter Three

~*~*~

 

I have to admit that there are times when I wonder if I should be doing more with my life.

I'm not saying that I'm not happy. I am. It's just that I look around and see things that could be better, and I know I could help...and I don't...not nearly enough. It's all out of habit, concealing my differences. I don't think I could break myself of it very easily...at least, not without help.

Mom understands. She and Dad had a lot to do with it, after all. Of course, I didn't find out all the details until she had me crating up the thing that I'd landed in during the meteorite shower in Smallville. The word 'alien' had gone a long way toward explaining why Clark Jerome Kent wasn't like the other kids. The fact that, in Smallville, _most_ of the kids weren't 'like other kids' had made it pretty easy to assume the reason for my strength and speed. While I was growing up, I just listened to my parents when they told me to be careful, and lived with 'don't ask – don't tell'...Smallville-style.

Then Dad died, Mom sold the Kent family farm, and we moved to Metropolis.

With my spaceship.

We ended up storing it in the wine cellar of the restaurant Mom bought in downtown Metropolis. It's still there, behind the dry reds. I see the crate whenever I restock, and sometimes I wonder if I should have at least tried to open the thing...and then I hear someone asking for help in the kitchen or at the bar, and I forget about it until the next time. It's easy to do. The restaurant business is no piece of cake, pun intended.

I'm not sure Mom was expecting 'The Kent House' to be quite so successful. I suspect she had visions of a cozy little restaurant where she could put together the kind of home-cooked meals people had raved about for years. That was the idea, anyway. She kept cooking and I used what I'd learned in my restaurant management courses and it just grew...enough that we ended up expanding into the brownstone next door. It still has that feeling of intimacy that Mom was aiming for, but we're able to seat enough tables to make a comfortable profit. Our reservations list is always completely booked, and we turn people away almost every night, but that doesn't mean I won't make an exception for my favorite customers.

That's what happened last night. I took a call from Lex Luthor, who'd apologized for not being able to make his usual reservation. I'd found it all too easy to suggest that he stop in later, when he was free, and assure him that we'd be happy to seat him. After I'd hung up the phone, I'd glanced at the mirror over the bar and recognized the smile spreading across my face. It was the same smile that appears every time I catch sight of that distinctive bald head and those beautiful blue eyes...as I watch Lex make his way to his reserved table.

Working the night tables as one of the owners means I spend a little time chatting with all of our customers. It's my favorite part of the day. The low buzz of conversation, the clink of silver and china, and the small noises of the restaurant keeps my awareness of the city outside tolerable. I can ignore the shouts of anger and threat outside, and stay safely concealed. It doesn't always work. There are times when I have to ask Mom to take the floor so I can go help someone and, when that happens, I just have to hope that I'm not identified. When I'm lucky, no one even realizes I wasn't headed to the kitchen, the wine cellar, or the office when I cut a conversation short.

The chats with Lex are something I look forward to and, if I'm lucky, we have one every night that we're open. He's never been anything less than charming, and we've talked about all sorts of things like sports or history and even the latest exhibit at the art museum. There's a word I read once and remembered...'eclectic'...and it always makes me think of Lex. The fact that he has beautiful skin, a gorgeous smile, and a laugh that warms me through is a bonus, as far as I'm concerned. I never have enough time with him, and sometimes I wonder if he ever feels the same because...we...flirt. There's no other way to say it. We flirt.

Still, after months, it's just flirting, and I'm starting to think that's all it's ever going to be. That makes me a little sad, because it isn't very often that someone attracts me. I don't know what it is about me. I like people, and I get along with just about everyone, but I hardly ever feel anything more. I remember this girl, Lana, back in Smallville, that I used to have a crush on, and there was one of the football players, Whitney. Mom and I left there before I was old enough to date anyone, but I think that I might have asked one of them to go out with me, if we'd stayed. Since then, there have only been a couple of others, but they never last. It always feels like there's something missing.

It's never felt that way with Lex.

I've always felt as if there's more to know about him, that he's more than Lionel Luthor's son, the one that the old man threw away because of some old scandal. That's really all the gossip I know about him, and that was by accident. One of the other customers was talking about him when I was passing by, and it had sounded as if she wasn't pleased to see Lex there.

I'd quickly solved that problem for her by placing her on the 'no seats' list.

Over time, I've learned to tune out the diners except for direct requests...everyone but Lex, that is. I always like to listen to him placing his order, always so polite and patient, even with our newest waitstaff. After he's been served, I casually make my way over and ask him how his day has been and if he's read any good books or seen any movies or...any one of a thousand silly things I think of. He smiles and teases me gently about my other customers being jealous about the time I spend talking to him.

I suppose he could be right. I don't think anyone else gets quite the same amount of attention. For instance, if it's been a good day for him, it's a dry California white. If he's not smiling, then I can be sure I'll see a glass of scotch in his hand. He prefers chicken to beef, crab to lobster...and he hates asparagus. He loves Mom's apple pie, and I always make sure that there's a piece left for him in case he decides to indulge, although he rarely does. He's not a big eater and it shows. When he takes off his jacket, you can see there's muscle under those thin sweaters, but definitely no fat. I think it wouldn't hurt him to have a few more pieces of pie, but as long as he leaves smiling and looking a little more relaxed, then I'm happy.

His friend, the one Lex had introduced as Bruce Wayne, hadn't been helping Lex's scotch mood. I'd overheard the two of them arguing and, although I'd tried not to eavesdrop, I couldn't help picking up something about arguing with the DEA and the head of the narcotics division in Gotham-Met. That conversation had halted abruptly, when I stopped by Lex's table as usual, but it had seemed to linger, and Lex had said little to me before I'd had to see to a problem at the bar.

Between Javier's stupid behavior and a large anniversary party in one of the private rooms, I'd missed my chance to watch Lex leave. I'd consoled myself that at least I'd overheard his friend agree with Lex that Mom's bread was the best in Metropolis, even if he'd left without joining Lex for dinner.

That had been disappointing. He'd looked as if he liked Lex, in spite of the argument, and it would have been nice for Lex to have company for dinner, for once.

He looks so lonely, sometimes.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Four

~*~*~

 

Working with the DEA on drug cases has often been rewarding through the years. As I'd sat in my office, listening to the recordings Phelan's men had made during Lex's meals at 'The Kent House,' I quickly reached the conclusion that this was not going to be one of those occasions.

It hadn't taken me long to find out that Sam Phelan, the lead DEA agent assigned to Gotham-Met, had been behind the aborted sting, setting up the lawyer to lure Lex in. After Lex had walked out of that hotel room without even being questioned, Phelan had attempted to blame the failed bust on me. I'd quickly made it clear to him that I'd saved the government from a costly lawsuit for false arrest. Lex had been three steps ahead all the way and, as a result, there had been no drugs on the premises...and no probable cause.

Phelan hadn't really appreciated my assistance.

Tired of listening to Phelan's raving about drug dealers with friends on the force, I'd left him sitting in the surveillance van parked outside the restaurant, and headed inside, curious to see what the appeal was for Lex. I'd found him sitting off to the side at a secluded table, alone. Sliding without warning into the chair across from him, I'd caught him in mid-sip, and he'd choked a little on his scotch before joking about growing a tail.

The amusement had left his eyes quickly when I'd leaned over to the next table, informing the plainclothesman seated there that his shift had ended. Still, it hadn't fazed Lex for very long. He'd always had the reflexes of a cat, landing on his feet and ready to take on the world...or to jump off the edge of it. He'd shoved a bread basket in my direction and ordered me to try a piece.

I'd appreciated the attempt to distract me from my reason for being there, even more so when the bread turned out to be the best I'd tasted in years. Smiling in approval, I'd agreed with Lex's opinion before I brought our conversation back to our earlier encounter and the implications. As I'd explained that both the head of narcotics and the lead agent for the DEA had wondered why Lex dined there so often, a pleasant voice had intruded.

Looking up, irritated at the interruption, I'd found the answer to my unfinished question.

Hearing his voice again on the recordings brought his face back to my mind. Although he was taller than either Lex or I, well-built and graceful, it had been his face...and especially his eyes...that had drawn my immediate attention. He had no distinguishing features, nothing that would stand out on a police artist's sketch, but that meant nothing. Separately, his mouth, nose, and chin were ordinary in conformation, and yet, when considered as a whole...coupled with high cheekbones, sparkling green eyes, and dark, wavy hair...he was, in a word, gorgeous. Not handsome or attractive...those descriptions would never do him justice.

Beautiful.

His skin had held a golden sheen against the crisp, white shirt he wore open at the neck. The suit was well-fitted, the watch discreetly elegant and his manner professional...although, when he'd smiled at Lex, the curve of his full lips had been indulgent. I'd learned little about him from our brief introduction, but it had been easy to see why Clark Kent had held Lex's full and complete attention from the moment he'd appeared at the side of our table until he'd reluctantly left to handle a problem at the bar.

I'd seen Lex on the prowl before, his eyes like blue lasers piercing through all artifice, bringing both men and women to their knees...for as long as he stayed interested. The way he'd looked at Kent was different, something I wouldn't have believed possible if I hadn't seen it myself. There'd been a soft...almost diffident...manner about him, and Kent had responded to it.

Lex had tried to conceal his interest, but it had been apparent that my presence there was superfluous. He'd barely reacted to my announcement that _I_ was that newly promoted head of narcotics I'd mentioned earlier. There had been just a quick jibe at my neglected law degree and former goal of district attorney. Recognizing that I was not going to learn anything more useful from Lex than a list of his favorites on the menu, I'd taken my leave with a final warning that if he was contemplating a change in his status, he'd better do it on someone else's turf. I'd made it clear that I didn't appreciate having the federal government involved. Lex had continued to claim that he was out, except for a slight 'accounting problem' that he'd clear up soon.

I'd left him there, alone at the table, his eyes never leaving the tall figure just visible across the crowded room.

I finally switched off the recordings, convinced that Lex had no drug-related business at 'The Kent House.' If he was back in business, it was elsewhere. However, convincing Phelan of that was most likely going to prove difficult. It appeared as if Phelan had an agenda...and taking down Lex Luthor was at the top of the list.

When Phelan stopped by to insist that I 'make sure' the DEA had a case, I made it clear that wasn't how things worked in my department, that I wouldn't manufacture evidence in order to make the headlines with high-profile cases. I also made sure my department heard every word...loud and clear.

His abject apology would have meant more if he'd actually shared the name of his informant, or the information he'd already accumulated on Lex. He did finally reveal the rumor that a 1200-kilo shipment of coke was on its way, and that Lex's 'former' associate was behind the deal. Phelan's plan was to use Lex as bait to reel in the bigger catch. His offer to me, if I used my 'relationship' with Lex, was to guarantee that Lex wouldn't stand trial in federal court. He left the threat of Lex losing fifteen years behind bars unspoken, and invited me in as an observer on his latest fishing expedition.

After taking my position on the other side of the one-way glass, I was surprised to see whom Phelan had brought in for questioning. Kent appeared younger in the light of day, and a little unsure of himself in such official surroundings, but the latter quickly dissipated after the first few questions.

Phelan pointed out the expired work permit for one of Kent's chefs and casually mentioned pending DUI charges. Kent countered with the information that his lawyer was working with Immigration to obtain Javier Ramirez's green card. When Pete Ross' name was mentioned as the lawyer in question, Phelan implied that Ross' presence in the restaurant, along with the presence of Lex Luthor, a 'known drug dealer,' justified asking questions.

Kent looked toward the window more than once, as if he were aware that he was under observation. That wasn't enough to inhibit his responses, and I have to admit I was impressed with his intelligence. He asked Phelan point-blank if he was being asked to spy on his customers in order to prevent his chef's deportation. When Phelan claimed that Kent had misunderstood him, Kent quickly assured him the federal judge he would be seating at the restaurant that evening would be happy to explain exactly what Phelan had meant.

That was enough for me. I was in the interrogation room before Phelan could sputter a response, and re-introduced myself to Kent. He recognized me instantly as Lex's guest from the previous evening. I quickly extracted him from the room and took him down to the sergeant's desk to pick up his chef, excused myself for a few minutes, and returned in time to escort them both outside. While we were walking, I explained that there had been some sort of accident and Javier's urine specimen had been destroyed, along with a number of others.

Kent seemed a little baffled and, when I asked why, he explained that he'd thought Lex and I were friends. I nodded and left it at that. His smile flickered, but never reached his face, and I felt oddly disappointed. Following him around to the driver's side of the car, I waited as he got into the driver's seat. As I'd hoped, he rolled down the window and leaned out to offer his thanks. I smiled and assured him it was nothing and added that perhaps I'd be by for dinner some time. Javier leaned over, too, and promised that I could order anything on the house. Kent's smile appeared and, with a nod, he drove off.

Phelan had trailed us outside. Without a word, he walked up to stand next to me as I watched Kent escape with his liberated chef. It was apparent that Phelan hadn't appreciated my interference, but he restricted himself to a typically vague warning that he was going to bring Lex down and to stay out of his way if I wasn't going to help. I'd have shrugged off his threat, except for his deceptively casual reference to the incident in Cancun...and my undocumented presence at Lex's arrest.

The simple statement made my blood run cold. There had been only three people with that knowledge. My uncle had been the one to insist on secrecy...and he was dead. I'd never told anyone else. I'd always known that Lex would never betray me...unless he had no other choice. Suddenly, the suspicious timing of Lex's arrest, along with the mysterious circumstances surrounding his release and subsequent disappearance, made a very disturbing sort of sense.

Lex and I had made our choices and taken very different paths, years ago.

It was beginning to look as though Lex hadn't actually been given a choice, after all.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Five

~*~*~

 

Sitting in the dark and listening to Lucas' tequila-fueled philosophy was not how I'd intended to end my day.

It had started off badly, with Lucas chasing me through the warehouse apologizing for the previous night's fiasco...at the same time he'd tried to convince me to go in on another deal he'd caught wind of. It was getting harder for me to care about Lucas' problems...after coming so close to screwing things up with Bruce...so, when Lucas had whined about getting killed because he couldn't pay his debts, I'd been irritated and snapped back that they'd only break his legs.

I'd known that it wouldn't even come close to that. He's my brother...and no one wants to take a chance on pissing off Lex Luthor. After all, I could always change my mind and go back into business. Still, it made things awkward, and all it would take is one stupid move.... I'm just tired of cleaning up his messes and I'd let my temper get the best of me for once.

I don't have that kind of money. Everything is tied up in the business...and Lucas knows it. When I'd made my decision to quit, I'd sold everything I could. I hadn't expected Morgan to call me in and tell me he'd found a brother I'd never known I had...and that Lucas was in trouble. Lionel wasn't an option, so too much of my cash had gone to pay off a Hong Kong cartel, and that, coupled with a few unexpected expenses, meant I was on the edge of losing everything now. I know that all I need is a few good customers and I can turn it around, but I'm running out of time.

After I'd put Lucas to work shifting pallets with a forklift, Victoria had shown up. She hadn't been content with simply nagging me to write the monthly check for child support a week early. She'd also informed me that her Mercedes needed a ten thousand dollar repair job because she'd neglected to put oil in the engine. Needless to say, she hadn't been pleased to find out she wasn't getting anything extra, and she'd proceeded to accuse me of starving my child.

I'd left her screaming in the middle of the warehouse and had gone out on my sales call.

Selling environmentally-sound underground irrigation systems has never been high on my list of things I want to do before I die. Good thing it isn't, because I didn't. The best I'd managed was a 'maybe' from one co-op and I wouldn't find out for sure for another few weeks. I'd pulled the samples case out of the Porsche at my house, and it had hit me again how ludicrous it felt to drive around in a high-end sports car...with farm equipment in the back.

I'm not selling the car. To begin with, I'd never make back enough to make it worth it. More importantly, it represents one last chance...to escape. I know that at any time, with a moment's notice, I can get into that car and drive away. I can leave everything...everyone...behind and.... I've never gotten farther than that when I think about giving up, but just knowing it's there...helps.

Phone calls from Morgan usually don't.

Today's call was no exception. He hadn't wanted to listen when I'd told him I'm being watched and that he needed to stay away. Too many years at the top has left him thinking he's untouchable. He'd just laughed and told me that he was looking forward to playing pool with me after we finished our last piece of business.

Hearing his voice brought back a lot of memories. I could almost see him standing there on the other end of the line; hear the clack of the worry beads he keeps in his right front pocket. I'd asked him once where he'd gotten the green stones...and he'd smiled and slid his palm over my head. He's the only one I've ever let do that. After that first hint, he'd said they were like nothing else on Earth...and then I'd known.

I've never been able to decide if they're a tribute...or an insult.

Walking in from the garage to find pizza boxes and beer bottles littering the back patio around the hot tub had been just another black mark against the day...and Lucas. I hadn't been surprised to find him lounging in front of the widescreen television with two blondes. I was just happy that the girls didn't look underage...for a change.

Lucas had picked up on my mood pretty fast, and the girls were history in a few minutes. That had been a mixed blessing because then I had to listen to another round of unsubtle hints about deals of a lifetime. I'd finally shut Lucas up by asking him to run an errand for me while I got cleaned up.

He hadn't understood at first why I wanted him to deliver an envelope to Clark Kent at 'The Kent House' if I was going there later but, after I'd explained that I wanted Clark to read it before I got there so we could discuss it, Lucas had left right away.

Then he'd called me from the restaurant to let me know that Bruce was there, having dinner with Clark. Lucas had been positive because he'd asked the bartender who Clark was before dropping off the envelope.

I'd hung my clothes back up and slipped on a pair of sweats because I'd known I wasn't going anywhere. Not tonight.

Maybe never.

You see, there's a small amount of time that I let myself just _be_, allow myself a little enjoyment. I never let myself think about Clark during the day...or dream of him at night. I keep him there at the restaurant, untouched by my world, safe from my past. I can talk to him, watch him, and pretend for an hour or two that I could have someone like him in my life.

I can't compete with Bruce, and now that he knows...I'm not sure I'll ever be able to pretend again.

Lucas bought a bottle of tequila on the way back and we'd killed it watching late-night news. I'd ended up laughing at the report of a drug bust with a multi-million dollar 'street value.' If those kinds of deals were real, I would have had a lot more money to piss away all those years. Then Lucas asked me where he had to go to get hooked up with one.

He mumbled about 'slap-happy sons of bitches,' and rubbed the back of his head for a couple of minutes after that, until he started rambling about friends. He'd actually made more sense than usual with his comparison of friendships and tires, how they got thinner and wore through, until there was nothing left but air and, of course, air provides no support at all.

When I'd finally gone upstairs alone, my heart had been aching more than my head.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Six

~*~*~

 

Although he'd suggested that he might stop by for dinner, I hadn't really expected to see Bruce the same night. When I saw him there, sitting at the bar, something sparked.

I took a break and joined him at the table...after he'd made it clear that he expected a bill at the end of his dinner and that he'd consider it an honor if I stayed. We chatted about nothing special while we waited for our food and I'd enjoyed myself. It had been a long time since I'd been on anything close to a date and he's...interesting.

Of course, I know who Bruce Wayne is, although I hadn't seen him in person before Lex introduced us. Everyone in Gotham and Metropolis knows. After all, there aren't many multi-millionaires who would choose to work as police detectives, instead of plundering the corporate world. I have to admit that I'd found the fact that he was sitting there next to me...strange. I wondered if he felt the same, and then I'd realized he most likely spends most of his time balancing between two worlds.

He looks like it, anyway. His suit was...perfect. I could tell that it would work in a police station as well as a boardroom, just as the subtly striped tie and discreetly expensive watch would. I pay attention to my customers, and I know the difference. It's apparent that he takes good care of himself, and he radiates self-confidence, physically and mentally. He's flawless.

He's nothing like Lex.

After our dinners arrived, he told me that he liked watching me work, that it was like I was an actor in a play...and I never missed a cue. I teased him and asked if that meant he thought I lacked spontaneity. He denied it, laughing politely, and then surprised me by asking if I'd seen Lex. I hadn't understood what he'd wanted, so he explained that Lex was going to ask me to cater a party. That still didn't clear up my confusion because, as I reminded him, that's one of the restaurant's functions.

He claimed it involved Lex's business and I asked if he expected me to refuse because it was a party for alleged drug dealers. He shook his head and, with an extremely awkward smile, stated that he was just interested in one particular guy who was...unpleasant. Bruce also admitted that this person wasn't known for being violent, but that didn't mean something couldn't happen.

I still hadn't been sure what Bruce was trying to do, so I asked him if Lex thought this 'guy' was a friend. Bruce shrugged and admitted that was the case, and then reluctantly declared _he_ was Lex's friend, too. When I smiled and told Bruce that I didn't see the problem, he frowned and explained that Morgan Edge had had plastic surgery and that no one knows what he looks like anymore, except Lex.

I started to get angry, because I didn't see any difference between the DEA agent and Bruce right then, and I asked if he wanted me to spy on a customer for him. Bruce isn't stupid and he'd known he'd stepped over the line, so he backed off and insisted we just enjoy our meal. And we did.

I think it's ironic that I'm being advised to be careful of Lex because he's supposedly a drug dealer, when Bruce is the one that needs warning signs posted.

When Lex moves, you can see that he's always aware of his surroundings. He's sleek, elegant, a black panther slipping through the jungle...a hidden beauty reluctant to emerge from the shadows. When I really stop to think about it, I know Lex has been stalking me, but somehow, I also know he's waiting until he feels it's the right time to...pounce. Sometimes, I think he may never reach that point, that I'm not enough of a prize for him to attempt that leap.

Bruce is a golden lion, confident in his power, regal, a rising force in Gotham-Met. He doesn't hide. There is no stalking involved, just a straightforward hunt by an irresistible force. He takes what he wants and, by the end of the evening...he'd wanted me.

Alcohol doesn't normally affect me much but, after the second bottle of Cristal, I'd been feeling a little...braver...than usual. My dinner break had turned into an evening off, despite an odd look or two from Mom when she came out from the kitchen to settle something at the bar. She'd finally brought me the keys to lock up and told me to be careful with one of her patented mother smiles. After I'd walked her out to her car and then came back inside, I admitted to Bruce that I needed an espresso after all the wine, and then headed for the bar to make one.

I never did get to drink it.

His suit wasn't perfect when he left.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Seven

~*~*~

 

It strikes me sometimes how annoying it can be when Alfred takes things like ruined suits in stride, never saying a word, simply accepting, for example, a foul-smelling, dripping jacket with a merely a restrained smile and a polite nod of his head. Obviously, the fine-gauge wool had been unsalvageable, so I'd left it with him and retired to my bedroom. At least he hadn't been there while I'd removed the remainder of my equally soaked clothes and added them to the evening's wreckage.

It actually had taken little time for my ill-temper over the interrupted dinner at Kent's to subside, especially when I'd recalled exactly how I'd ended up in that condition...and my prize for enduring it. Clark had been extremely apologetic about the cascade of filthy rainwater that had drenched me from head to toe. I'd found it surprisingly easy to forgive him. After all, I'd been the one to insist on helping him with the leaking roof in the wine cellar. Kissing him while we were standing under the leading skylight had turned out to be singularly ill-advised, even though the sound of his laughter had almost made the entire mess worthwhile.

Fortunately, it had also resulted in an invitation to join him for a weekend of 'checking out the competition' in the surrounding area. We'd covered a lot of ground and stayed overnight in very pleasant bed and breakfast...in separate rooms, of course. I'd found myself highly amused by Clark's enthusiasm for food, which was surprisingly as fervent for chili dogs and fries as it was for Cristal and lobster. It had definitely been an interesting weekend.

I'd never before had an opportunity to wander through a farmers' market, and it had been disconcerting when I'd lost Clark for few minutes in the rural crowd. I hadn't been able to find him anywhere, and then he was there...next to me...claiming he'd been a few booths over. I still find it hard to believe I'd misplaced someone that size. He'd certainly had my full attention all the time we were there. I hadn't even realized there'd been an attempted bank robbery a few blocks away. I found out later that no one was able to say exactly what had happened, but it seemed that the robber had dropped his gun because it had burned his hand. I've heard of spontaneous combustion, but that was a new twist.

The weekend had been a revelation. At first, I'd believed Clark had booked separate rooms for appearances, but I'd soon found out that wasn't the case. He was quite serious about taking his time and 'getting to know me first' before he'd move beyond the occasional kiss. My initial annoyance softened into respect after it had become quite clear that it wasn't simply a game to him.

The next weekend, I took him home to meet Alfred.

He'd charmed the old man, just as he captivates everyone who sees that smile or looks into those eyes. We spent the weekend exploring the manor, the surrounding countryside, and each other. We shared food, and exchanged kisses, dreams...and stories.

When I walked into my office on the following Monday, Phelan demanded to know where I'd disappeared to for too many days. I informed him that I'd been working, and then I supplied the details he'd been waiting for, the information I had obtained on a high-profile party that 'The Kent House' was catering.

A party that Lex Luthor was holding for 56 very special guests.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Eight

~*~*~

 

It was the goddamn fucking _dogcatcher_, the one who leaned against his fake Animal Control van and stared at the front of my house for hours, instead of chasing the twenty-seven damn unlicensed dogs running around on the street. He was the last fucking straw in the load of shit that was waiting to break my fucking back. It hadn't been enough that I'd been miserable for days, ever since I'd broken down and asked where Clark was, after he hadn't shown up in the restaurant for two nights in a row. Finding out he'd taken a few days off to 'go away with a new friend' had left me feeling bruised inside, especially after I'd later confirmed that Bruce had...not-so-coincidentally...taken some time off, too.

Sure, I'd had a little good news along the way. The deal with the co-op had gone through, and Victoria would be getting her Mercedes back out of the shop after all. I'd talked to Clark on the phone for almost an hour to work out the date and time and menu for something I was planning at my house. I'd even ordered a cake that Martha Kent was going to bake.

Then the fuckers decided to stakeout my daughter's birthday party.

Once I'd spotted one of them, it was easy to pick out the others. Cars I hadn't seen before parked down the block, new neighbors jogging, and a police cruiser that patrolled along the marina...just in case I tried to escape justice in the boat sitting on a trailer next to my house. There was even a municipal work crew, a few hundred yards away, which did a piss-poor job of pretending to fix a pothole that had magically appeared overnight.

Magically. Hell, _I'm_ a better magician than those pitiful excuses for undercover cops. Maybe I'll never be an expert on how to decorate a birthday cake, but at least I'd been able to keep the kids entertained until the food was ready. I'd kept my cool, even though I'd wanted to walk outside and tell every one of Gotham-Met's finest that they'd already missed playing 'Pin The Tail on the Fucking Donkey' and they might as well go home.

My hands hadn't shaken for the magic tricks, but trying to write Lena's name on the chocolate cake Martha Kent baked was a different story. If Clark hadn't walked in and taken the icing tube away from me, no one would have been able to decipher it. He used a butter knife to clean up the mess I'd made, produced a legible 'Happy Birthday, Lena,' and even added a few flowers and butterflies.

He stood there in my kitchen holding my daughter's cake and he looked so fucking gorgeous that I almost could have forgiven all the uninvited guests. Almost. Instead, I poured myself a drink, glad that the tequila was gone and that I'd switched to vodka. That meant I could add orange juice and pretend I wasn't well on my way to drunk at two o'clock in the afternoon during my baby girl's birthday party.

Clark might not have been fooled by my little attempt at self-deception, but he never said a word about the glass in my hand...or how badly it shook. He carried the cake outside for me, lit the candles on it and served it to all the kids and parents who'd overrun my backyard, and then he stayed to help clean up after everyone left. All that time together and the only thing he said to me, when I handed him the envelope with his money, was that he'd been surprised by my magic tricks.

It had definitely been a good idea to arrange to have Victoria take Lena for the night and bring her back in the morning. It made it easy to pour myself another drink before I casually mentioned to Clark that the twenty-five Gotham-Met cops outside were probably just as surprised. When I saw him wince at that little tidbit, I couldn't resist asking him if he was going to pretend that he didn't know anything about it.

He didn't try. There was such a sad look in those eyes, and then he told me that Bruce Wayne had mentioned the possibility that the police would be watching me. When I asked why, he asked how much detail I wanted, and then he was _very_ specific. I could almost hear Bruce's voice as he calmly delivered my sentence...tried and convicted me without a jury of my peers. According to my friend, I'd been a well-known drug dealer and I'd claimed that I'd quit, but that I'd lied to everyone and I was still dealing.

And there it was...finally. It all came down to me competing against the golden boy of Gotham. I think that's when I gave up. I felt numb as I absolved Clark, said I didn't blame him for telling Bruce about the party after the head of narcotics for Gotham-Met accused me of being both a drug dealer...and a liar. Then I walked away, expecting him to leave, but I didn't get very far. His voice stopped me before I could leave the room. It sounded so hurt and confused that I couldn't turn around because I didn't want to see that on his face.

I didn't turn around until I heard him leave.

I couldn't...not after he told me that Bruce had told _him_ about the party before he found the envelope Lucas had delivered.

I couldn't fucking look in his eyes after he told me that he'd had no idea he was catering a birthday party...and that Bruce had claimed the party was going to be for another drug dealer.

I did turn around to go back for the bottle, because I'd really had an incredibly fucking bad day, and then I took a walk by the water. I had a lot to think about, to process. After all, it isn't every day that your oldest friend stakes out your daughter's birthday party...waiting for the notorious Morgan Edge.

And then he was there, walking next to me, like we were going to the next class together...and I hadn't studied again and was making it up as I went along. He didn't say anything until I asked him why he'd tried to get me kicked out of my favorite restaurant. He didn't try to insult me by asking what I meant. He just shrugged and claimed he'd done it to keep Clark safe, and that Clark had told _him_ about the party...not the other way around.

Of course, Bruce didn't like it when I pointed out that telling Clark about Morgan Edge, so he could potentially help identify Morgan, was an excellent way to bring Clark to the attention of the wrong people. He also didn't appreciate being told to stop trying to use me to get to Morgan. He ended up muttering something about misplaced loyalty and not owing my life to the guy who got me out of a Mexican jail.

I watched Bruce walk away from me, and I couldn't help thinking that maybe Lucas had been right with his drunken half-assed automotive philosophy.

The tread's wearing pretty damn thin on that friendship.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Nine

~*~*~

 

The first envelope I received from Lex had ended up water-stained and crumpled. So had the hand-written note inside. Unfortunately, the envelope had been sitting on the bar when the roof and skylight started leaking...the same night Bruce had gone home soaking wet. I remember that I'd felt bad when I finally opened it the next day and found Lex's request that 'The Kent House' cater a party with an assortment of dishes and desserts. In particular, he'd asked for suggestions on a cake with a plain top, no decorations. I'd called him as soon as I could that day, settled on when and how much it would cost...and that was it. It had all been very professional, despite Bruce's warning.

The second envelope contained far too much cash. I didn't find that out until the next day when Mom called me over to ask what was going on. Somehow, the tip had ended up being twice as large as the original bill. To be honest, I hadn't even glanced inside when Lex handed it to me after the party. I'd been too busy trying to figure him out that day. I'd had no idea the party was for his daughter. I hadn't even known he had a daughter. Walking into his house and seeing all the happy young faces had been a pleasant surprise. So were a few other things that happened...and then there had been some revelations that had ended up not being quite as pleasing.

Sometimes it seems to me as if Lex is a life-sized jigsaw puzzle and, up to now, I've only managed to piece together the corners and edges. There are still gaping holes in the middle, and I know that I'll never find the missing pieces if I can't trust what other people say about him...and as long as he's unwilling to share. As I'd counted the crisp bills that I'd pulled from the envelope, I'd believed that I'd found another piece...and it was rotted and curling at the edges. My anger at the implication behind the money had almost been enough to lift the burden I'd been carrying since Bruce had first brought up the party...the caustic weight of thirty pieces of silver.

I'd walked away from Lex's party feeling tarnished metal lying heavy across my shoulders, thinking everything was all a matter of perception. Whenever Bruce looked at Lex, he saw an old friend who'd left him behind to deal drugs. I'd observed firsthand a lonely man, who adored his young daughter and who might no longer be the criminal everyone else was convinced he was. I'd seen the pain in his silvered blue eyes when he'd accused me of betraying him...and when he'd learned his old friend, Bruce, had actually been responsible. I'd left him drowning that betrayal in vodka, wishing there had been something more I could have done to help fill the gaping hole left behind when his daughter left the party with her mother.

After I'd examined the contents of the envelope, my treasured memories of magic tricks for laughing children and a fumbling attempt to decorate a little girl's birthday cake had been quickly erased by burning anger. I have to admit that I'm tired of people thinking that I'm for sale. While it certainly hadn't the first time I'd been propositioned...and probably wouldn't be the last...it had rankled coming from Lex.

There'd been nobody home when I'd arrived at Lex's place but, hearing some odd noises down along the beach, I'd attempted to see what was happening there. I'd just started focusing in that direction when a guy I recognized from the birthday party popped his head out of Lex's front door. Before I could ask him anything, he'd volunteered that Lex was at the skateboard competition...and that _his_ name was Lucas. After I'd introduced myself, he'd smirked and claimed that he already knew all about me from his brother Lex. That snide remark only fanned the flames of my anger but, before I could reply, Lucas jumped into a black Porsche, which I'd recognized as Lex's, and he drove away with a jerk and squeal of abused tires.

It didn't take me long to walk down the road and find Lex standing by the barriers of the skate park. He was watching Lena performing on her skateboard and yelling something at her about taking it easy and not trying a move she hadn't perfected yet. It wasn't until I'd grabbed a waving hand and slapped the envelope into his open palm that he'd realized that I was standing next to him. His eyes looked so wide and surprised, the grey-blue shimmering like the water in the distance, beautiful behind the shadows. I'd almost believed he hadn't meant the insult even before he said a word.

It didn't take me long to be positive that he hadn't. His shock at my anger was unmistakable, as was his chagrin when he'd suddenly realized that he'd handed me the wrong envelope. A rueful grin acknowledged that the twenty-odd voicemails from his ex-wife were probably related to the mix-up. Unfortunately, his stammered apology was interrupted by a sharp cry of pain followed by his lunge towards Lena, who was lying on the ground...writhing in pain.

It was only fair that I'd ended up driving them to and from the emergency room, especially since I'd been the one distracting Lex. When we got back to the house, Lucas had returned...with several _friends_. At least he was smart enough to hurry the girls out of the house when he saw the look on Lex's face, and he even promised to sign his niece's cast when he got back.

Lena was a little out of it with the pain medication, but I could tell she was trying to put a good face on it for her dad. I had a hard time keeping a smile off my own face as I listened to the two of them. Lex gently settled her into bed and then ended up reminding her about her language when she apologized to him, saying that she felt like 'shit' because her mom was going to blame him for her broken wrist. That's when I stepped in and suggested sending over a pie for the invalid. It wasn't a big surprise to find out she liked apple the best...like father like daughter.

After Lena had fallen asleep, we went downstairs, leaving the bedroom door open in case she needed anything. I'd noticed that Lena had obviously been consulted in the room's decor, the eclectic mix of princess and 'boarder was uniquely appropriate for her. When I asked if she lived with Lex, he shook his head sadly and said it depended on money and her mother's moods. I took the hint and simply accepted his thanks for taking them to the hospital. Still, I couldn't resist saying something when he threw back a second shot of scotch in less than a minute. It wasn't like him. He always sipped his drinks at the restaurant, he never slammed them.

He dropped onto a chair at his dining room table and ignored me as he poured a third. I wasn't sure what to do, but it was apparent he was feeling lost. He stared down into his glass and rubbed a finger around the rim, and I almost missed it when he started to talk. Afterwards, he'd held her in his arms and realized that it wouldn't have mattered, that he would have loved her just as much, with or without hair. His voice was rough when he revealed his father couldn't claim the same after a meteor shower.

That had been a shock. I'd had no idea Lex had been in Smallville the day my ship landed and I couldn't help feeling a little responsible for what had happened to him, even though my mom had always told me otherwise. I know she's right...I was only a little kid that day, but still....

When Lex finished his third shot and poured a fourth, I tried to step in again, reminding him that he needed to be able to listen for Lena. His head came up and I could see a flash of surprise in his eyes, almost as if he'd forgotten that I was there. He didn't answer when I asked him if he was going to stop drinking and I pushed again, until his mouth twisted in a smirk and he pushed right back. His claim that I didn't really want to know just made me angry, and I think he could tell because then he said he'd answer any question I asked.

The offer was irresistible, but before I could think of one, he supplied his own...'how can I feel the way I do about Lena and sell drugs?' Of course, his answer made perfect sense...that was why he'd stopped. I could see the truth in his eyes, still clear and steady despite the scotch he'd thrown back so quickly.

I had to ask him why he'd been with Pete Ross the night of his arrest for possession if he'd really quit the business. He shook his head with another twisted smile and explained he'd been trying to teach Pete how to sell the cocaine...so he _wouldn't_ end up in jail. After a few more questions, the hidden reasons for that night became a lot clearer. Lex had decided to help my lawyer to gain respectability in my eyes. He'd believed that Pete would let me know that Lex was out of the drug business and was now a legitimate dealer in irrigation systems.

Lex had done all that to increase the odds in his favor...so that if and when he ever got up the nerve to ask me out...there'd be a better chance that I might accept.

I was happy to inform Lex that he didn't need a lawyer for that because I was sure that dating wasn't considered a criminal activity. I also made it clear that although what he'd done was sort of flattering...it was also pretty stupid. It was too bad that I caught sight of the clock on the wall and realized I was late...really late...and that Mom had been picking up the slack for me too much lately.

From the look in Lex's eyes, he was just as sorry as I was that I had to run.

At least I knew I still owed Lena an apple pie.

I'd already decided that if Lex played his cards right, I'd let him have a piece.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Ten

~*~*~

 

Watching the surveillance tapes of Lena Luthor's birthday party turned out to be a surprisingly effective form of penance on my part. I'd been furious with both Phelan's continued refusal to name his unreliable informant and his waste of money and manpower in his pursuit of Morgan Edge. Phelan certainly had no qualms in using Lex as bait...highly expendable bait...and I'd had to admit that I was starting to question my own role in the three-ring circus that had taken over my department.

Meeting Lex later that day on the lakefront had brought it all out into the light...with a vengeance. His words might have been slurred, but they'd sliced true and deep. He'd been accurate in his accusations. I had exposed Clark to danger in my hubris, with my self-righteous attitude whenever I dealt with Lex's choices in life.

I'd looked into Lex's eyes and lied about Clark, had claimed that he'd been the one who'd revealed the time and place of Lex's party.

I'm still not sure why.

I'd also had to face the fact that I'd come close to harming a little girl, one who'd done nothing to deserve what life was threatening to hand out to her.

Fatherhood was something I'd never really considered before when I thought about Lex. Surprisingly enough, that particular aspect had turned out to be the most evident on the videotapes. His face had transformed when Lena had arrived, had reflected the delight of the children he'd entertained with a magic wand and card tricks. Later, his shoulders had held the weight of the world as Victoria had driven away, Lena waving back at him through the back window of the sedan.

He'd looked the same when Clark left after the party, eyes dark and bleak, mouth thinned and twisted...as if he were saying goodbye to something precious, irreplaceable.

It didn't make things any easier when Phelan informed me that he'd finally located someone who could identify Edge. The bastard had actually gone ahead and set up a meeting to take place at 'The Kent House' without telling me ahead of time. I certainly understood...and sympathized with...the look of surprise on Clark's face when our dinner date transformed into a clandestine get-together in the wine cellar. Before I could get any details on Clark's meeting with Lex that day, we'd both introduced to Edgar Morrisey, a high-ranking officer in Interpol, who'd been involved in other operations with the DEA in the past. He'd brought several of his field agents with him, and Phelan had been in his glory crowing about past successes teaming up with Morrissey.

I couldn't wait to get out of the small room, and neither could Clark. He'd actually turned green when he'd shaken Morrisey's hand, and I'd been convinced he was going to pass out right in front of me. Thankfully, he'd quickly recovered after I'd helped him back out to the main room, although he'd still looked a little shaky when he'd greeted a longtime customer, Judge Matusich.

Even though I'd stayed behind at the bar, I couldn't help overhearing the judge as he'd handed an envelope to Clark and explained that he'd pulled a few strings to expedite Javier Ramirez's green card. The smile on Clark's face had obviously enough reward for the favor, if the judge's own fond expression had been anything to go by. I'd found it easy to empathize because when Clark had turned and looked back in my direction, I'd lost myself in bright green-gold eyes.

I hadn't been able to enjoy the sight for long. Clark had thanked the judge and then walked over to another customer waving across the room. I'd felt a definite flash of uneasiness when I recognized who'd called him over. Pete Ross caught me watching the two of them, and the look on his dark face hadn't boded well for me...or my plans. Seeing Clark's body language alter significantly, as he'd stood there by Ross' table, I knew I'd been right to worry. Unfortunately, Phelan had pulled me back into the wine cellar before they'd finished talking, so I'd been partially blindsided by Clark's change in attitude when I'd walked back out a half-hour later. He'd gone from warm to arctic, freezing me out without a word while he stood by the bar waiting to take care of any customer requests.

My mind had still been racing with the details of the trap Morrisey and Phelan had been setting up for Edge...and Lex...so I'd ended up pushing Clark little too hard about his behavior. As a result, I'd learned more than I'd wanted...and it hadn't been in my favor. My earlier questions on why he'd visited Lex that day seemed to support his suspicions, so he'd accused me of using him to get to Lex. He revealed his discovery of how Lex had been subtly trying to 'court' him for personal reasons, in direct contrast to my pursuit of Clark as part of my job.

Clark then informed me quite bluntly that he was sick of the lies and that if I wanted to fuck Lex, then I should go ahead and fuck _him_...not try to use Clark as a stand-in. For the first time in a very long time, I'd been left speechless. I'd watched him walk away from me, knowing I'd managed to fuck things up royally and that I couldn't offer a single _honest_ word in my defense. At least, not then.

Since then, I've had a lot of time to think while watching the surveillance tapes of the party and the meeting at the restaurant. Phelan had been a paranoid bastard and had set up multiple cameras, and they'd captured Clark's conversation with Ross in damning detail. I can still see the dismay sliding into Clark's face as he'd learned about the deportation order that _I_ had obtained from Judge Matusich...after I'd entrapped his chef on drunk-driving charges. Granted, the charges had been valid, but the odds had always been in my favor after I'd overheard Clark arguing with Ramirez at the bar the night I met him. Ordering surveillance on the chef had provided my chance to earn Clark's 'trust,' as well as the possibility of additional information on Lex's activities.

I'd abused that trust more than once and, in the end, I'm no longer certain it's been worth the cost.

It had always been easy in the past to decide where that line fell, to be confident in what means were justified by the ends. Somehow, that's changed. It's simpler for Lex. He wants Clark and he doesn't want to get caught dealing drugs. Lex used to be my friend, and I think he still is, but I'm a cop and he's a drug dealer...and I hate drug dealers. Phelan is a cop and an asshole, but I'm probably going to end up helping him put Lex in jail alongside Morgan Edge. I'm going to use any means necessary to put a very dangerous man behind bars, and I'm not sure what that says about me.

I don't think I like who I've become.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Eleven

~*~*~

 

I may have an unnaturally high tolerance for drugs and alcohol, but that doesn't mean there haven't been some 'morning afters' that really sucked. The morning after I'd confessed my 'plan' to Clark? Yeah. One of those exceptions. Lena's brightly shrill chattering while I made her breakfast had only compounded the pain. A cop stopping with a signed and dated warning from the city that I had to either move my boat or risk a fine had done nothing to make my day brighter. Crawling back into bed with the covers over my head had looked like a better and better option...and then, miraculously, there was an unexpected and very welcome sales call.

After a short debate with myself while I moved the boat down to the dock I rented, I'd called one of Lena's sitters and had her take over kid-with-broken-wrist-watching duty for however long the trip to a farm outside the city would take. I'd known that Lena would understand and forgive me for leaving her, even if _I_ would be feeling guilty about it for days.

It had certainly provided a lot of incentive not to take the scenic route.

Coming home to a dark house with a strange car in the driveway set my heart racing and left my stomach heavy with dread. I dropped my gear outside the door and carefully opened the side door that led into the kitchen. The soft light over the sink revealed nothing unusual about the room...if you ignored the apple pie sitting in the center of the table. I could smell the sweet spice rising from where someone had been sampling, the jagged edges of the slice suggesting childish enthusiasm and somehow soothing some of my apprehension with the ordinary.

A sound from upstairs caught my attention, and I realized it was coming from my bathroom. I called out quietly for Lena and the sitter, but no one answered. Moving cautiously, I made my way upstairs and stood listening outside the bathroom door for almost a minute before I pushed it open. Dripping, dark, curly hair and shocked green-gold _unmistakable_ eyes met mine in the mirror over the vanity, and we both froze for a moment before launching into babbled apologies. A few seconds later, we were both laughing at our inability to make any sense, both sobering quickly when I managed to gasp out Lena's name.

While he yanked his perfectly ironed white shirt on, wrestling with it because he was still damp, Clark quickly explained to me that Lena had called him at the restaurant claiming that I'd left her at the house...alone. He'd immediately pulled together some supplies and driven out to take care of my deceitful daughter. Of course, it hadn't taken long for Clark to find out that Lena had dismissed the sitter with yet another lie...something she and I would be having a very long _discussion_ about in the very near future. He'd finally been able to contact Victoria...since Lena had conveniently forgotten my cell phone number...and she'd picked Lena up after Clark had fed her dinner. He'd even brought along the apple pie he'd promised her.

Then he'd borrowed my shower to clean up before leaving for his evening shift at the restaurant.

The thought of him in there, of water pouring down over the perfect body that I'd only managed to get a glimpse of before I'd politely turned away, was hard to banish.

Very hard.

Painful to walk..._hard_.

I knew I was so fucking screwed, and I had no idea what I was going to do about it.

Clark took care of that for me with his grin and his kind eyes and his calm acceptance of Lena's deception. A broad hand in the small of my back guided me out of the bathroom and down the stairs into the kitchen, where he proceeded to heat up leftovers for me without batting an eyelash. He did tease me when I asked how Lena had managed to contact him, holding up the Sunday edition of _The Daily Planet_ containing the review of the restaurant. Tapping the photograph of him in the main dining room, he noted that at least my bedside reading material wasn't X-rated.

I got the definite impression that he'd guessed my dreams weren't quite so tame. The cocky bastard was teasing me...and I loved it.

It seemed like only a few minutes flew by when he suddenly looked at his watch and swore at the time. I had to smile because his mild 'damn' was so fucking sweet. I thanked him for Lena and dinner, and then...I lost it a little and asked whether he was going to be seeing Bruce at the restaurant. I wanted to take it all back when I saw the smile leave his eyes, but it was too late. His voice...I'd never heard it sound so hard before as he informed me that he never discussed his customers.

Mine was just as harsh when I accused him of doing just that with Bruce.

It didn't take long for me to understand how wrong I'd been. He made some very interesting points when he complained that he hadn't known enough about me to be a credible informant for the police. After all, up until a few days ago, he hadn't even known that I had a daughter or a house...or anything else beyond my food preferences and favorite brand of scotch. He'd considered it a bonus any time I'd actually shared my opinions on the temporary Monet exhibit at the art museum and the Shark's playoff chances.

I knew I'd blown any chance I'd ever had with him...and then there we were; outside, sitting on the edge of the hot tub, with our feet dangling in the water, as I showed him what I was trying to sell to environmentally conscious farmers. He listened to me spout off all the technical bullshit, his eyes shining bright in the light of the lantern hanging at the edge of the patio. The shadows couldn't conceal his smile, the one that had come back when I'd offered to fill in any of the remaining blanks of my life for him. It had only taken him a minute to take me up on it, only as long as it had taken him to call the restaurant and let them know that he wouldn't be in.

When I finally wound down, he tilted his head and gave me a puzzled look, as if he couldn't quite figure out something. I waited and he sighed and asked me why I hadn't gotten out of the drug business sooner. It was obvious to him that I was smart enough to be able to do anything I wanted.

Listening to his simple declaration of faith twisted me up inside and I couldn't stop the bitter words from spilling out. So many people constantly pressured me to stay because of the money; Victoria, her lawyer, my lawyer, Lucas, my former customers. Hell, even the cops didn't want me to quit if that meant they couldn't take out Morgan Edge. I told him that I'm trying, but the pressure to keep selling is fucking massive.

He didn't say anything when I finished, just looked at me with those eyes that seemed to be able to see right inside me, and then he smiled and told me I was being completely paranoid. That hurt more than I expected, and I pulled my feet out of the hot tub so I could go back inside, but I stopped when he touched my arm and apologized for his rudeness. I could see in his eyes that he regretted what he'd said, so I nodded and settled back down and smiled back. Relief rushed through me, and my mouth opened before my brain could kick in, and I told him that he hadn't hurt me...at least not as bad as looking at him and knowing I couldn't have him did.

I never expected him to laugh and point out that I'd been making a huge assumption, since I'd never asked.

I never expected him to reach over, take my hands, and then pull me into his arms so that he could kiss me.

I never expected to end up tasting cinnamon and tart apple, hearing my name spoken low and sweet, and touching the golden skin I'd dreamed about for months.

It happened and, even as I slipped into the blood-warm water with him so hot and ready against me, I knew that it was too good to be true.

I knew that I'd never be allowed to keep him in my life...and I was already saying a silent goodbye.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Twelve

~*~*~

 

Bruce had really surprised me with his apology. He'd seemed so sincere, his dark eyes begging me to listen. I couldn't help remembering how perfect he'd looked that first night, flawless, so easy to talk to and yet...even then...I'd felt as if he needed warning signs posted. He'd stood there in the doorway of the empty dining room with his hands restless at his sides. It had been almost as if he were forcing himself not to reach out, to touch me, which had helped to make his words sound a little more believable.

Not convincing enough, in the end.

I'd been furious the night before when I'd found out from Pete that Bruce had been behind Javier's arrest. I'd already been feeling uncomfortable about being forced to choose whom to believe...Lex or Bruce...and then our wine cellar had been commandeered without my knowledge for a law enforcement strategy session.... It was too much, especially after I'd suddenly felt so ill. That hasn't happened since I left Smallville, and I couldn't help suspecting that it was all somehow related.

I'd let Bruce know how angry I was and why and I'd thought that would be the end of it. Then he'd showed up looking as if he really regretted what had happened, and I came so close to letting him have another chance. I'd almost agreed to have dinner with him, then Lex's daughter called me and I caught Bruce trying to listen in. I knew then he'd never be able to let it go, and I couldn't help feeling glad that we'd never done anything more than kiss.

It didn't take me long to put together some food...including the promised apple pie...to take to Lex's place, and my work clothes were already in the car. I always keep a couple of changes handy because I never knew when I might to replace something in a hurry. I used to buy the same style and colors all the time so people wouldn't pick up on the fact that I'd disappeared and had come back in different clothes. When Mom realized what I was doing, she took me shopping and showed me how to build a wardrobe with enough differences that I wouldn't look as if I was always wearing the same thing, but that would also leave the impression that I hadn't changed when I actually had. She'd even managed to talk me into wearing something other than my favorite blues and reds outside the restaurant.

I have to say that Lena is something else. When I showed up at the house, she wasn't the least bit ashamed that she'd lied to me about the sitter. I had to turn my back on her so she wouldn't see me grinning when she refused to give me Lex's cell phone number. The last thing she needed was encouragement in her mini-rebellion. All I could see standing there was a younger version of Lex telling the world that he was going to do things _his_ way. Thankfully, her blue eyes didn't hold the cynicism that all too often casts silver shadows across Lex's gaze, and I couldn't help wishing that they never would.

I finally located Victoria's number, but I relented enough to cook dinner for Lena before I called her mother to pick her up. I even let the little rebel have a piece of pie, even though I knew some people would believe that I was rewarding bad behavior. All I had to do was remember how Mom would frown and shake her head at me when I'd done something wrong...right before she'd slide a muffin across the table or send me outside with a handful of cookies. She'd always told me she'd wanted me to have as 'normal' a childhood as possible, and that meant that sometimes I'd get it wrong and needed to be forgiven.

After Lena drove off in her mother's car, with an adorable pout making it difficult for me to let her go, I borrowed Lex's shower to get cleaned up for work. Stepping inside the white-tiled room was tough. I was surrounded by Lex, the air lightly scented with the soap he used, the soft towels that touched his body. Taking a deep breath to calm myself didn't help, and I could do was finish as quickly as possible so I could remove myself from the subtle torture. It ended up being one of those times when I wished that I didn't have to slow down to make sure the water actually touched my body while I was washing

As fast as I could wasn't fast enough. I was still drying off when suddenly Lex was there in the bathroom with me. I don't know which of us was more surprised, but it wasn't long before we were both laughing at our really bad attempts at trying to explain ourselves and apologizing. Of course, then I looked in the mirror and realized I was standing there half-dressed, and it was a wonder I didn't rip my shirt trying to pull it on while I was still wet.

It didn't take long to me to explain what Lena had done, and I made sure that Lex knew that I really wasn't mad at her. I even convinced him to sit down and have some dinner himself, since I still had enough time to heat up the leftovers before I had to leave. He actually blushed when I teased him about his bedtime reading material that had given Lena the idea of calling me at the restaurant. Everything was going better than I'd ever hoped, then I caught sight of the time and knew I had to go... even though I didn't want to.

That's when our pleasant conversation veered away from flirting and took a more disagreeable direction. Lex asked me about Bruce...and I lost my temper. I'd had it with their jealousy and games and putting me in the middle. I guess Lex figured that out pretty quick because he backed off, and I was on my way out the door when I saw his reflection in the window...and I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave him there thinking he'd screwed up his chances and never coming back to the restaurant to try again. I waited there at the door, and he told me to ask him any question and that he'd answer it.

I called the restaurant and told Mom I wasn't coming in, that I had something going on that needed to be fixed, and she never said a word about it, just told me to be careful and that she loved me.

Then, I sat on the edge of a hot tub and learned about irrigation systems and Lex's struggle to turn legitimate and that's when I knew I'd never be able to walk away and leave him behind. I couldn't fix what had happened to him in the past, but I knew I could help build a better future for him and Lena.

That's what you do when you love someone. You stay and you work it out.

He wasn't expecting me to tell him that he didn't need to hurt thinking that he'd never be able to touch me. He'd made assumptions about me...bad assumptions...just like Bruce had, yet not the same. Bruce had assumed I was somehow involved in drug dealing because I'd spent some time with Lex. Lex assumed that I was too pure and goods to be touched by someone as dirty as he believed he was.

They were both wrong and I was tired of assumptions and I was tired of waiting...so I kissed him. No more talking. No more over thinking. It was time to simply believe in my intuition and to believe in Lex. Kissing was a good start.

Actually, it was an _excellent_ start.

When I'd kissed Bruce, I felt something more than I'd ever felt before and, maybe under different circumstances we might have taken it to the next level. With Lex, there was no question that we belonged together. It was as if an open, faulty circuit finally closed, or a piece that had been missing from a complicated puzzle was slotted in to make it complete. I tasted him, the lingering flavors of our meal, let my tongue explore the texture of the scar that had fascinated me, and touch everywhere I could reach, all of it in a rush that left me breathless and needing still more.

Clothes got in the way, especially after they got soaked in the hot tub. It was hard letting Lex go long enough to take them off. The only reason I finally managed it was because once I touched his skin, I needed more. I ached to touch every inch, like the sheerest silk against my fingertips, and the sounds he made under my lips made me shake and whisper his name like a prayer.

When we were both naked I needed to see him, even though pulling back made me ache. I felt weak, as if Lex were wearing Lana's necklace, the one made from one of the green meteorite rocks in Smallville. Even that's not the right description because it was the best kind of ache, not pain really, more a knowing deep in my bones that Lex's touch would make it better.

There we were standing together in the hot tub, too caught up in each other to try to sit, and I was harder than I'd ever been in my life. There have been times when I've lain in bed or stood in the shower and thought of being with someone else, and it felt okay to touch myself until I could let go and let the heat blaze through me. It's always been sort of the same sensation when I use my eyes to light a fire. It builds up inside and it feels good, like a wave rushing through me when it's over.

Good, but not incredible or the best thing that's ever happened to me.

It was almost too intense with Lex pressed against me, lining us up so we were touching, so hard and soft at the same time inside my hand...I never wanted it to stop. Lex's mouth was on my neck and, when he bit me, lightning jolted through me until my hand tightened...and it was over for me. I felt the splash against my belly and it slid down over my hand, and Lex was still moving and he was just as hot and wet against me and I heard him saying my name...sweet and a little shaky and perfect.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, we just stood there so close that it was hard to tell where one of us started and the other ended. I looked down at where we were sticking together and the moonlight made Lex's skin glow and then there was me...darker...complementing Lex like the night bleeds into the day...and the world needs both. Lex must have read my mind somehow because he looked down, too, and then grinned up at me and whispered that we looked good together.

We finally rinsed each other off with handfuls of water and more than a few playful splashes. Gathering up our drenched clothes took a little time and I could feel shyness start to creep in until Lex smiled at me and asked me if I would stay. He offered me a couple of incentives; the need to wait for my clothes to dry...and some pie to share while the dryer ran through its cycle. His bed upstairs was suggested as a comfortable place to relax with clothing and utensils optional.

I now know that apple pie tastes sweeter when served on kiss-warmed skin, and Lex tastes better than anything else ever could. He filled my mouth better than the finest pastry or the smoothest custard, and the thought of adding him to 'The Kent House' menu had me grinning until he pinned me to the bed and demanding to know what was so funny. When I finally stopped laughing long enough to explain, he immediately demanded that he at least be made a permanent selection on the specials board, and then he proceeded to engage in some highly inventive tasting of his own.

Twice so close together was exhausting...even for me...and I fell asleep in his arms.

I woke up alone.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Thirteen

~*~*~

 

Taking care of Lex's boat for Phelan's surveillance had been a simple matter of using the laws already in place and, oddly enough, that bothered me. While not exactly illegal, it had been another negative in the internal ledger I keep for Lex and, after talking with Clark, it had become all too apparent that I'd been running in the red for too long. It would be one thing to catch Lex in the act; it was another to collaborate in setting him up to take a fall because of past mistakes.

Clark had been the reason I'd spent most of the night thinking instead of sleeping. He'd been the one who'd reminded me of why I'd chosen to work in law enforcement, that it wasn't just about the criminals, it was also about the people I'd sworn to protect. Clark had looked at me with troubled eyes and I'd begun thinking about a life beyond the daily grind, calculating the possibility of waking from dreams holding something beyond blood and hate.

With all that in mind, determined to make amends, I'd showed up at the restaurant before it opened, hoping to clear the air with Clark. I had been convinced that I could explain myself and, with a little luck, manage to convince Clark to forgive me, maybe earn a second chance to get it right. Clark deciding to listen emptied my reservoir of luck. It was up to me to make it happen, to apologize, to try to make him understand.

Watching emotions flash across Clark's face, as I tried to justify my actions as being part of my job, had been an education. Wariness had bled into muted dismay when I'd claimed that I hated being the cop who might have to lock up someone I used to call a friend in order to take down someone like Morgan Edge. There'd been more than a spark of anger when I'd told him that when I'd first met him, he'd been so smooth he'd had me convinced that he was hiding something, just like Lex. I'd never really believed he'd been involved in drugs but, whatever it was, I'd had to be sure there wasn't something that he knew that would help me do my job.

His entire body had stiffened and he'd frowned as I'd detailed what I'd found out about him; how he'd never had a steady girlfriend or boyfriend, no arrests or complaints ever filed, not even a parking ticket. No one I'd spoken to had had anything bad to say about Clark Kent. He'd turned out to be...perfect...so I'd stopped looking for flaws.

At least I hadn't been foolish enough to mention that occasionally I had the feeling that I'd missed something important.

For the first time in my life, I'd come close to begging someone to forgive me and, for a few brief moments, I'd thought I'd been successful. Unfortunately, a phone call derailed the conversation and managed to lower the temperature in the room at the time. I'd failed to conceal my interest in the caller, regretting my eavesdropping immediately when the soft green of Clark's eyes hardened to cut emerald. He'd excused himself with cool politeness, and with every word he'd spoken, I'd known that what little we'd had together was over, his trust irreparably broken.

All I could do after that fiasco was head back to my office to review the evidence...again. A logical person might have laughed at my inability to face the fact that Lex was going to end up in jail along with Morgan Edge, but there was something lurking in the recesses of my brain that insisted I'd missed something important. I sat at my desk and flipped through the paperwork that had accumulated since I'd taken over my new position, and a batch of requisitions and reimbursement forms, from both the DEA and Interpol, earned my haphazard attention.

As I idly shuffled the bureaucratic debris into some sort of order, I uncovered the file Phelan had dropped off a few days earlier. Lex looked up at me from his manila prison, his blue eyes faded in the grainy surveillance photo taken just outside his house. Stacked underneath were the facts and figures of Alexander Luthor's life, his few successes and his many failures, all gathered into a tidy package that would never reveal his true identity.

One official document stood out from the rest. I knew enough Spanish to translate the gist of the document, the piece of paper that had released Lex from his sojourn in a Mexican version of hell. The charges, the dates; there was nothing there that I hadn't already known, but a particular name drew me in, coaxed me to look a little closer. Something about the signature of the man who'd arranged Lex's freedom raised a red flag...and then I had it. It only took a few moments to locate the requisition form I'd just reviewed and signed off on and, the moment I pulled it free from the stack, I could tell my hunch had paid off.

That one obscure clue was enough to send me back to the surveillance tapes of Lena's party, and then I had Phelan's informant...ironically caught in the act by Phelan's cameras. I finally had two names, two missing pieces of a very complicated puzzle and, when I fit them together, the resulting picture wasn't pretty.

I needed to know if there was a third piece, so I headed for the office Phelan had appropriated while he coordinated the surveillance on Lex. Fortunately, I stopped just before walking in and overheard Phelan complaining about civilians fucking up days of setup work. When Clark's name entered Phelan's litany of curses, I became very interested in the details and took the two steps that had kept me outside and inserted myself in the conversation.

It didn't appear to be an opportune time to ask Phelan about his informant. Instead, I focused on the problem Clark was supposedly causing the surveillance team. Phelan immediately directed my attention to the feed from the van monitoring Lex's house...and I was sorry that I'd asked.

Watching Lex and Clark in Lex's hot tub left me feeling as though I'd never be able to breathe normally again. They were both so fucking gorgeous together that it hurt. Lean and pale, Lex matched Clark's tanned curves as if he'd never belonged anywhere else, and Clark held him like a precious object, his broad hands gentle despite the strength I'd felt shifting beneath my hands for a brief moment on a memorable rainy night. The picture on the screen flickered and spat, but the static and poor focus couldn't conceal the passion that had ignited between them.

They were beautiful.

The unexpurgated commentary by the team filming them was ugly, and my stomach churned with hatred at the foul words, but they made my choices so much easier.

I didn't share what I'd found with Phelan because I didn't know if he was dirty or simply too stupid to see what was happening. It turned out that Phelan wanted Clark out of Lex's house because Morgan Edge was supposedly meeting Lex there in a few hours, but that didn't stop him from throwing a fit when I declared my intention to pull Clark out myself. Of course, Phelan was already late to his appointment to payoff his informant, so his threat to shoot me himself if I fucked up his stakeout lacked teeth...and did nothing to slow me down.

All I had to do was arrange a reason for Clark to leave Lex's house and, with a little help from a grateful Javier, I had my chance to warn Clark to stay away from his boyfriend or risk being brought in with him and charged as an accessory. Clark was furious when I left him at the restaurant, but I couldn't stay with him because I needed to catch up with Phelan at the payoff location.

I arrived just in time to see the crime scene tape go up around the informant's body. When I saw Lucas' empty eyes staring up at the stars, blood pooling beneath his bullet-ridden body, I knew that I'd made a mistake and had underestimated the danger. As I raced toward Lex's house, I suddenly found myself wishing that I'd used my handcuffs and locked Clark in the restaurant's wine cellar where he would have been safe.

Clark wasn't going to stay away from Lex...and that meant they were both about to die.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Fourteen

~*~*~

 

Clark sleeping next to me had been a dream that had come impossibly true, and I'd stayed awake to savor every moment. Hearing my cell phone trilling and buzzing downstairs had been a rude interruption, and I'd resented my inability to ignore my electronic leash. Despite knowing I would be wasting precious moments, Clark's presence hadn't been enough to prevent me from sliding out of bed, grabbing some clothes, and creeping out of the room to find out whose call I'd missed.

I never made it to the laundry room. I'd reached the bottom of the stairs at the same time a shadow detached itself from the wall and intercepted me. My yelp of surprise had been cut short by a warning hissed across the dark in a voice I'd known as well as my own. I hadn't been able to believe Morgan had taken such a dangerous chance, and I'd dragged him down the hall to the room where I keep my pool table to let him know just how stupid I'd thought he'd been. Just before I snapped on the light, he'd laughed and told me that I needed to relax, that he was in charge of the surveillance around the house.

I hadn't understood until I'd stood back and looked into his face. It was as if I'd stepped through the looking glass into another reality. The familiar voice anchored me as I'd catalogued the differences since I'd last seen him years ago: a thinner nose and higher cheekbones, blue eyes instead of brown under a mop of silver-blond hair that replaced a brown buzz-cut. He moved and sounded the same, but I'd begun to understand the claims of plastic surgery and the widely held belief that no one could identify Morgan by sight.

Racking the balls and breaking as if he were in no danger of exposure, Morgan had commenced clearing the table just like old times, only pausing and looking up when he finally missed a shot. My silence, as well as my face, had obviously betrayed my bafflement, and that's when he'd revealed that I'd never known the real Morgan Edge. No one had. With stage makeup, hair dye, and colored contacts, he'd maintained the illusion of a notorious drug dealer who'd grown up on the streets of Metropolis and, in effect, I'd been working for the government...or at least a government agent...all along. Morgan had used his international police connections to make and protect his deals until he'd decided he'd had enough.

My leaving the business provided additional incentive, since he'd lost his convenient front man. The mask he'd worn as Morgan had been discarded, and after he'd finished his explanation, I'd held the dubious honor of being the only person who could link him to his alter ego, now that he'd left that life behind for fulltime legitimacy.

My head reeling from the bizarre revelations, I'd still had the presence of mind to recognize the danger I was in. The best I could hope for was that once my final accounting with Morgan was complete he'd leave me alive, despite his well-known aversion to loose ends.

The fucking worst case scenario would be I'd take Lena, Clark, and Lucas down with me.

It hadn't helped that thinking about Clark seemed to be enough to summon him. Fortunately, I'd intercepted him before he'd walked into the room, and had a chance to kiss him goodbye before he'd left to handle an emergency at the restaurant...all without him meeting Morgan. I'd explained that an old friend had stopped by to talk and play a game of pool after a bad breakup, and he'd appeared to believe me, which had been a relief. I'd convinced myself that the farther away he was from me, the safer he'd be.

My relief had been short-lived. When I'd returned to the room, Morgan had made it clear he knew about Clark, and that he'd been observing our earlier activities. His mocking comment on my stamina had sent a shudder through me, the danger to Clark evident in every revealing word. I'd once been grateful to Morgan for saving me from hell but, as I'd listened to him warning me about letting anyone get too close, informing me that Lucas had been weak and had paid the price of betrayal, I'd silently declared an end to my obligation.

I had one last thing I had to do...the accounting problem I'd mentioned to Bruce. Fifteen million dollars in cash and bearer bonds, to be precise, that I'd personally held for Morgan. He'd handed it over to me three years earlier, because banks and brokers were notorious when it came to paper trails and I was very good at hiding the wealth in plain sight. Granted, you don't earn interest when you hide your funds somewhere equivalent to 'under the mattress,' but you also avoided ending up in federal prison for tax evasion. Returning the money required moving my boat to a location selected by Morgan, and he'd directed me to the dock next to a house he'd rented on the water. At his suggestion, I'd left him at the house to ensure the surveillance team wouldn't pick up my departure, expecting to meet him an hour later.

That had left me with a little under an hour to come up with a plan, and I'd used every minute of it.

Of course, that plan hadn't included walking into Morgan's house to find Clark tied to a chair with a fucking gun to his head.

It'd obviously needed a few adjustments.

I was almost positive Clark had a concussion. His eyes weren't tracking and he looked almost green under the blood that was still dripping from a cut just below his right temple. I wanted to pull my own gun and take Morgan and his thugs out, but I couldn't risk Clark, so my gun ended up on the table in front of Morgan. He sat there frowning in disappointment at me, and then waved me towards the chair opposite him before pouring us both a drink. It was the first of many as Morgan talked and I listened, each groan from Clark strengthening my resolve to find a way out for him, if not the two of us.

Morgan held all the cards, and I don't know why he didn't just take his winnings and leave, after making sure there were no witnesses left behind. Instead, he ranted about how he'd been a better father to me than Lionel Luthor, and tried to convince me that I could guarantee my silence and save Lena's life by killing Clark. He confessed he'd considered having me shoot Lucas, but had decided that I'd balk at fratricide, so he'd had it handled by someone else. As far as Morgan was concerned, Clark was just someone to fuck, so killing him would be much easier, and then Morgan would have something to hold over me, in addition to my daughter's wellbeing.

Half a bottle of scotch later, Morgan was beginning to ramble as he convinced himself I was going to agree to his demands. I let him think that, biding my time until the right opportunity presented itself.

Finally, Morgan's head nodded while his guards had been lulled into complacency, and the gun fit inside my fist as if it had always belonged there...neatly tucked under Morgan's chin and ready to blow off his head.

 

~*~*~

Chapter Fifteen

~*~*~

 

Hearing the murmur of Lex's voice downstairs had been enough to calm my fear that he'd freaked out and taken off on me. Tempted, I'd managed not to eavesdrop, even when I'd made out a second voice. After thinking about it, I'd figured it was probably Lucas coming in late, and that Lex would be back upstairs any minute.

The clack of billiard balls soon proved me wrong, and I'd almost decided to join Lex downstairs when I heard my cell phone chirping. I finally had to scan the room using my little bit extra to find the stupid thing inside my shoe, which had somehow managed to end up under the bed and nowhere near the few pieces of clothing that had made it to the bedroom. Answering it signaled the end of my evening with Lex. Reluctantly, I'd listened to Javier detail the latest emergency, agreed to hurry back to the restaurant, and then gathered everything so I could leave.

Lex must have heard me moving around, because he'd met me coming down the stairs, concern flickering across his face. I have to admit, I'd been a little disappointed at the lack of protest on his part when I'd explained that I had to leave, at least until he'd kissed me and made it very clear that it wasn't goodbye. He'd even reminded me to make sure I recorded his seven-thirty reservation for dinner.

Arriving at the restaurant and finding out that Bruce had convinced Javier to lie in order to pull me away from Lex's house meant I'd been less than willing to listen to...let alone follow...Bruce's instructions. Bruce had kept insisting that I had to stay away from Lex because I was in the wrong place and the wrong time and I'd end up hurt or worse. I really didn't care and the minute Bruce left, I was on my way back.

Of course, I hadn't expected Lex to be gone. I should have scanned the house before I went in, but it hadn't been very long since I'd left and I'd been sure Lex would still be playing pool with Lucas. It wasn't until I walked into the room and saw Morrissey standing there, talking on his phone, that I'd realized that Bruce had been telling me the truth, that it hadn't just been his jealousy talking. By then, it was already too late.

Two steps in, and suddenly I was on my knees, the same sickness that had hit me in the restaurant back, but it got even worse, when Morrissey walked over to stand in front of me. He'd put his phone away and was rubbing green beads between his fingers as he watched me groaning on the floor. When he bent over to look closer, the beads started to glow, and I knew then that they were like Lana's necklace. It'd been years, but I'd never forget how awful I used to feel when she was wearing that piece of the meteorite that had killed her parents.

Morrissey had to have known what was happening because he smiled, tucked the beads into my shirt pocket, and then _chuckled_ at my groans. I must have lost consciousness for a while and then I woke up enough to feel as though I'd been trying to breathe underwater, my heart pounding so hard that I could barely hear the argument that was going on a few feet away. It took me a couple of tries, but I finally managed to lift my head enough to see Lex drinking something and talking to Morrissey.

The problem was we weren't in Lex's house anymore and the man he was talking to wasn't really Morrissey, at least not if I'd heard Lex right. It was Morgan, the same Morgan Edge that Bruce had been trying to identify, and I tried to warn Lex that Morrissey was...wrong...but my throat wouldn't work. I must have made some sort of noise, because Lex looked at me and I could see it in his eyes, how much seeing me like that hurt him. I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I'd be all right, but he just looked back at Morrissey and kept trying to convince him to let me go.

I couldn't follow everything they were saying, but suddenly Lex had a gun in his hand and under Morrissey's chin. It was so quiet, no one shouting even when they were seconds away from dying, and Lex's voice was like a steel knife cutting through the useless words that were fogging my brain. I tried so hard to talk, to beg him not to kill for me, not to step over that line and lose everything he'd struggled for, but all I had were my eyes to speak with and the room was getting dimmer every second.

Then we weren't in the house anymore and my feet were dragging on the ground, because two guys I didn't remember seeing were carrying me towards a road. I was still having a hard time seeing or hearing anything but, after they dumped me on the sidewalk, Lex's voice was there telling them to leave in the car that was parked a few feet away and not to come back until Morgan called them. They must have done what he said, because the next thing I knew Lex was there telling me that he was going to fix everything, that I just had to hold on a little bit longer.

I tried so hard to tell him about the beads, but he was gone and all I could do was try to keep breathing. Bruce's voice asking me what had happened, asking me where it hurt, seemed like a dream. He tore open my shirt, I suppose trying to see if I'd been shot or something, and then moved the beads far enough that I could beg him to take the beads out and throw them away.

Air rushed into my lungs, cool and sweet, and I could finally hear more than my heartbeat. Bruce was arguing with Phalen about Morrissey, yelling that Phalen had been a fool because Morrissey was Morgan Edge. Then the argument changed when they saw something by the water, and I heard them running, shouting about throwing down a gun, and I rolled to my knees trying to see because it had to be Lex. I couldn't stand yet, but my sight was back along with my hearing, and Lex was on a dock with Morrissey telling him, Morgan, to get in the boat and leave with his money, shouting that Lex was done, that it was over.

Morrissey must have seen Bruce and Phalen coming, because he turned and jumped down into the boat, then he reached behind himself and, suddenly, he had a gun pointed at Lex. Every muscle in my body struggled to move, I needed to save Lex, and then there was a gunshot, and then another. As I stumbled toward the water, I was sure I would see Lex falling, but only his gun fell to the ground when his hands rose into the air above his head. Morrissey was the one who jerked, whose arm dropped so that his gun pointed down towards his feet, and then Bruce was shouting at Phalen to stop shooting because Lex had surrendered.

Phalen wasn't listening to Bruce and, as I finally picked up speed, I saw Lex grab his shoulder where a dark stain was spreading across the light fabric of his shirt. Phalen was still firing as Lex dropped to the dock and Bruce took his shot. Phalen spun around with his eyes wide, Morrissey swayed in the boat and his gun fired downward twice by reflex, I finally had Lex in my arms...and the world exploded.

 

~*~*~

Epilogue

~*~*~

 

After an almost endless night, it had been a long day filled with more than one shocking revelation, but Lex still made his seven-thirty reservation for dinner and I joined him. We were both quiet, our earlier sharing still vivid in our minds, both needing time to settle into our future.

Bruce had handled everything, had forced us to leave the scene before he called in the fire department, an ambulance...and internal affairs. Fortunately, I'd shielded Lex from most of the explosion when Morrissey hit the boat's gas tank, and Phalen's bullet had only carved a bloody furrow across the top of his shoulder, so Bruce had agreed that he didn't need to go to the hospital. That had eliminated the need to report the injury as a gunshot wound and would keep Lex out of the investigation into the deaths of two law enforcement officials. The fact that Lex hadn't fired a gun, and that all of Morrissey's..._Morgan Edge's_ money had ended up in ashes would work in both Lex's and Bruce's favor. After listening to their planning, I'd walked away with the impression that the world would never know what happened to Morgan Edge.

There had been no discussion with Bruce about how I'd escaped without injury despite the smoking gun of burnt, shredded clothing, or how I'd suddenly appeared as if from nowhere. Bruce had simply ignored everything that had happened as far as I was concerned, had treated me as an innocent bystander who'd arrived after-the-fact. I hadn't argued. I'd been too busy making sure Lex was in the clear so I could take him home.

There had been, however, no escaping the need to explain it all to Lex. He'd listened quietly while I'd described my dramatic arrival in Smallville, the ship in the wine cellar, and, most importantly, how I'd been a part of why his life had changed all those years ago. My differences came up, but he hadn't had many questions about what I could do. Instead, he'd simply pointed out how quickly he was healing and left it at that. It had been clear that he was exhausted and needed time to process everything that had happened.

After I'd fixed him breakfast, I'd left him alone to think, while I'd returned to the restaurant and worked as if it were any other day, and tried not to worry about what I might have lost.

Lex had shown up right on time and managed to smile at me, and that's when I knew that we'd make it through to the other side.

It was a little after nine when I looked up and spotted Bruce standing across the street, watching us through the front window. He probably believed that his face wasn't visible at that distance, but I could easily detect the regret in his expression...and the resolve. For just a moment, before he turned and walked away, I wondered about what might have been, if I'd met him first, if things had been a little less complicated.

Bruce had wanted me, but Lex had _needed_ me.

He still did.

Turning my back on the night, I watched Lex enjoy his slice of apple pie...and smiled.

 

fin

 

_I don't know what it is about going to high school with someone that makes you feel you're automatically friends for life. Who says? Who says friendship lasts forever? We'd all like it to, maybe. But maybe, it just wears out like everything else - like tires. There's just so much mileage in them, and then you're riding around on nothing but air._ Tequila Sunrise (1988)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ladydey as high bidder in Sweet Charity February 2008 auction. She requested a CLex remix of 'Tequila Sunrise' and here's my attempt. Claiming creative license, I chose one of many geographical locations used in the comics 'verse and set Metropolis and Gotham City as twin cities on the east coast across a large bay, with Gotham to the north and Metropolis to the southwest. Philip Wayne is also from one of the comic arcs. I don't pretend to understand the details of immigration laws or police procedures, so there may be some inaccuracies fostered by the movie.
> 
> Many thanks to my indispensable beta, jakrar, who does the best she can with my inability to use the right tense all too often. All remaining mistakes are, of course, mine.


End file.
